Assorted MGG Characters | Oneshots

Damsel (Kyle, E)

Summary: You find a group to stick with in the zombie apocalypse, and Kyle is the only one with a bed big enough for two people.

Rating: Explicit (NSFW, 18+)

Content Warnings: Gun mention, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pulling out), mild D/s dynamics, brat kink, Daddy kink, mild degradation/praise, nickname "Princess"

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I always thought that the end of the world would be followed by constant disasters of varying levels. The experts had warned us about the downfall of humanity, of the melting of the ice caps and the inevitable storm that never ended. But when the dead came to life, I guess all those theories went out the proverbial window.

Most days the world looked pretty much the same, save for the occasional walking, talking corpse. But that day was not one of the good ones. The rolling thunder was somehow less off-putting than the crackling spit of electricity ripping through the atmosphere.

But there I was, wandering on the side of an abandoned highway littered with empty, looted cars and flanked by forests. I'd meant to return home — or whatever version of it I'd found — sooner than this. Realistically, I figured the last group had left without me after the 48 hour mark. I wouldn't have blamed them.

When you run into people in the apocalypse, there is always a certain set of risks. The cliques had formed early, and the bonds were, for the most part, pretty unbreakable until someone required a bullet in their skull. I was one of the unfortunate few who never really found a group willing to take me in.

So, I was alone. Terrified, but willing to take the risk of running into a nasty group of lowlifes if it meant shelter from the kind of wildfires Smokey used to warn me about all the damn time.

As I stumbled upon the small local inn, sporting lit windows and a functioning A/C unit, I considered the possibility that it was all an elaborate trap, a mirage of an oasis in the apocalypse. Of all the things that could have been waiting for me on the other side of the door, Judy Orfman was the last thing I ever would've considered.

The woman ushered me through before a single droplet of rain had the possibility of slipping through. I wish I could say she was wordless through it all, but she wasn't. In fact, she said so much in such a short span of time that I honestly couldn't track half of it.

There were, however, a few recurring themes. One in particular.

"Oh! You've got to meet my so— I mean Kyle," she'd gushed, like the correction would be enough not to rouse my suspicions. "He has a room with extra space for you, dear. And I know it's probably unsettling to stay with a man, but my son—Kyle— is very respectful."

Of course, it wouldn't have been the first nor the last time a mother was wrong about her son. But she'd made it sound like it was the only real chance I'd had of sleeping in a bed that night. And realistically, I was fully prepared to kill a man if it meant a peaceful night's rest. Wouldn't be the first time, although I suppose it would be the first fully live one.

Moments later, there I was, standing outside again, but this time in front of a different door. Right after I knocked, I glanced behind me to find Judy still peeking around the corner, although she tried to hide at the last second.

I was thankful for it, though, because it meant when the man named Kyle opened the door, he caught me with a rare, genuine smile. His face, however, looked nothing short of baffled. That would be the second thing that I noticed about him, though. The first thing I'd thought when I'd seen him was twofold: (1) The Orfman family had powerful, beautiful genes, and (2) this man did not need his mother picking up women for him. Not even in the apocalypse.